


Jubilant Catarina

by HerCrookedTeeth



Category: Dark Souls I
Genre: AHA THAT'D BE IT, Gen, I might also do some modern!AU stuff, because what's better than taking low medieval characters and putting them in the modern world, it's not all gore and cannibalism over here, maybe i'm just dumb, onion family bonding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-20 15:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HerCrookedTeeth/pseuds/HerCrookedTeeth
Summary: A collection of short stories featuring everyone's favourite onion family.Designed as something I can do when I don't have time to write my overarching projects.Will be mostly lighthearted and sweet, maybe with a bit of melancholy.





	1. he made 1000 chicken broths later

She kept sneezing, and wasn't entirely sure _why._  
  
It was fairly rare for her family to get sick.  
Friends of her father's had often joked that he never got ill, that the illness just seemed to bounce right off of his broad frame – apparently, mother had been even stronger.  
  
Though she liked to think of it, and smiled at the thought, a hacking cough warned her that such immunity hadn't found it's way to her, apparently.

An attempt to clean the musty vases her father set out and then promptly forgotten about (for years!..) had turned in an attempt to clean the entirety of the house.  
Which, as it turned out, had put her in a bit of a pickle –

Several trips, crashes into priceless mementos, and other unspeakable accidents later, Sieglinde had decided with _certainty_ that she wasn't cut out for anything more domestic than drinking domestic beer.

“... A terrible defeat...”  
  
Her whisper felt like a concession, too! It would've been something nice to do, to surprise him!..  
And since he'd always been so eager to do the same for her...  
  
Father rarely left to pursue deeds of heroism and knighthood, anymore.  
As a Knight of Catarina, his name was still spoken of with a degree of reverence that always felt slightly forced, to her.  
Like the people saying it couldn't believe how the jovial and encouraging man they saw, somewhat rounded by age, was the hero they'd heard of.  
  
Of course, heroism was far more than defeating villains and righting great wrongs.  
The hero she respected was the old man who seemed _bewildered_ and _charmed_ by the fact that stray cats existed, even as they attempted to maul him with more ferocity than a dragon!..  
  
And still left out food and drink for their ravenous hordes, every night.

“Lin! I've returned! Oh, but it was a story, a true story! Would you believe that the local dry-goods merchant was... Oh, it's simply too terrible to put into words!”  
  
“Father... Nnf, I'm sure it was. Do not get too close. Please. I feel as if someone – my head...”  
  
Raising her fist to her face and stifling a cough, Sieglinde managed a bright smile.  
The various items poking through canvas seemed to be – not entirely related to curing illness, or bringing good luck, or even – anything in particular.  
  
“Did you truly have to make so many purchases, father...”  
  
“Oh, well, naturally! First, I consulted with some augers about what incenses brought good fortune. Amazingly, they're rarely asked about such matters, and so I bought several kinds – this one comes in a purple case, Lin!”  
  
He held up the eggplant-coloured wooden case, and she shut her eyes and shook her head – smiling, even as she coughed.  
  
“You... They just wanted to sell you more than one...  
  
“Mmn, possibly! And yet, if it would restore the health of my little girl – I would have bought twenty, ahahaha! Of course, that's not all I got.”  
  
She pretended to groan. He went through money quite recklessly, and was a bit reckless in general.  
  
But sometimes that was part of heroism, too; living frugally for yourself, while giving anything to those you cared for.  
Even if it was irresponsible, if she were asked if she respected it...  
  
“There's chicken bones, for soup, and some fresh apples from the orchards down the road, and! I'm rather proud of this, but there was a man selling little wooden puzzles, and I thought... Lin loves puzzles, so – “  
  
“Father... I can't stand, puzzles...”  
  
Siegmeyer acted as shocked as if he'd been pierced through the heart – and then they both laughed, until she felt like she might grow more sick, still.  
  
Mother – her mother had allegedly loved puzzles, all the ornate hand-painted wooden pieces that created images when put together.  
  
Occasionally, she would see her father staying up late, putting them together by himself.  
  
It was peculiar, but he rarely seemed lonely; for though he missed her terribly, he felt certain they'd meet again.  
And she worried, so, which was she'd decided to clean the damn house in the first place, and oh, no...  
  
But soon he'd left the room, and she could hear the fire under the stove.  
He'd... _Truly..._  
  
The smells of burning incense, chicken broth being stewed, and something else that might have been an attempt at tea all were punctuated by a very quiet (and equally surprised) murmur of “oh. heavens!..” that only barely filtered through the door.

Sickness being what it was, she faded in and out of sleep.  
  
When she awoke, however, the night filtered through their small house as silver spears.  
Her steps felt uneven, but her head felt better; and a bowl of strong chicken broth had been left, still somewhat warm, against the countertop.

It appeared that someone had attempted to burn all the incense at once, and she laughed – cleaning up the ashes in a pale imitation of what had led to it all in the first place.

And she could hear her father's loud snoring, and see the unfinished attempt at the newly started puzzle.  
Quietly, she removed several uneasily fitted pieces and placed them were they belonged, threw a blanket over the divan he'd collapsed on, had her soup – and returned to her room, to dream of knighthood and heroism.


	2. just one girly at the tourney and it's kill or be killed

The parade grounds were built of the same somewhat simple construction so favoured in Catarina. Designed to last, to afford mounted chargers room to showily strut, and brave knights ample ground to practise their art, and to suit as many attendees as could be conceivably crammed in.

Down below the many booths, hawkers of various concessions and wares (both fine, and less fine) married their pitch to their crafts, serving as a kind of gateway for the curious tourist from other lands.

Siegmeyer had seen several travellers from Carim, for examples, who had probably expected an, _ah,_ less structured tourney! Well, but that was out of the question! When it came to camaraderie, chivalry, and all manner of good thing, Catarina took it seriously!

He'd managed to arrange fairly close seats to the lower rung. Originally, they'd been reserved for the poor (as it was assumed nobody but the groundlings would want the admittedly low risk of a bloody accident!), but as the culture of tournaments had gained steam, well, they'd certainly become highly prized!

Fortunately, despite it normally costing funds which he didn't have and prestige which, well, it had passed somewhat from his line –

Things worked out, as they'd tended to, and after a few drinks with the magnate hosting this year's sport, and an admittedly humble plea, he'd been granted a proper front-row seat! Which was pleasant, to say the least of it.   
  
Now, if only he could calm these nerves...

“You're new, too, old sir?”

A group of young men, wearing their fanciful multi-coloured breeches and feathery hats, were seated to his left. Siegmeyer _hardly_ felt himself one to judge the current trends of such landless sellswords (why, he felt he had been quite _wild_ in his day, ahahaha!) – but there was something _deeply_ unpleasant in their character he just couldn't shake...

Well!   
But that was no reason to be impersonal! 

“No, no. Just a bit nervous, ahahaha! I'm rooting for one of the contenders, you see...”

One of the men laughed, quietly, and elbowed his friend. They whispered amongst themselves, while the one with the brightest hat (Siegmeyer felt it looked a little like a pumpkin, which was a shame; he rather liked gourds), sneered.

“Dangerous game, that. Hope you didn't wager too many coppers, old sir. Why – most anyone could find themselves in a rather terrible situation, if they'd made an... Unfortunate bet.”

“Mmn, well, thank you for the warning. The truth is, I barely have any coppers to my name _to_ wager! Ahahahahaha!”

Siegmeyer laughed, heartily, and struck his (hearty) chest with an open palm.

The gesture was too much for the young lads, who went back to murmuring amongst themselves. All the better, really; he didn't have any desire to start a fight or two, and they were probably just fired up about such things... Nobody could blame them, why, a tournament got the blood of all fine Catarinian folk fired up!

“Skillet-fried onions and boar sausage, skillet-fried...”

“Oh, excuse me. Mmn, I'll gladly take some of those off your hands!”

A vendor, had passed by; one of the more morose ones who probably had found herself out of luck as more exotic fair, influenced by cuisine from Astora, Carim, and even farther lands such as the Fivefinger Delta became commonplace.   
  
Naturally, he loved _all_ good food, but a sausage and something green, maybe a good brew – that was traditional for a tournament, right?   
  
Just the thing to root for her – his little Lin...

Biting nervously into the overly-done sausage with the nervous fears any parent might have for their child's debut, Siegmeyer ended up buying another one, as well as a charm from a merchant who guaranteed they brought good luck...   
  
Well!   
Money hardly mattered when it came to matters of faith, and if there was even the slightest chance it could bring good fortune on a day like today –

The sound of woodwinds and brass rose up amongst the crowd, sending them into a fevered pitch. Cheering and revelry swelled up and faded in an instant, for the real purpose of the brief fanfare was to build _anticipation._

Ah, and then!   
Everyone could behold the glorious warhorses, the fine destriers and their finer coats, walked amidst the grounds by lesser landholders and petty-merchants displaying their proudest animals!

Several jugglers and firebreathers had been recruited to dance amidst the stands, causing a carefully controlled degree of chaos and eliciting ' _ooooos_ ' and ' _aaaaaaaahs_ ' from a crowd unused to such miraculous feats of dexterity and skill!

Then, there were the high-merchants and their noble peers, displaying fine wealth in arms and armour, the kind that made even an old knight like himself a bit jealous. Ah, perhaps he'd have to clean his armour up, later, hmn...

But all this was a prelude, something to get the blood pumping – which it certainly did!   
Nervously, he took a bite of his second sausage. The taste was wretched, and yet somehow heartening... Such was the way of festival food.

“And now!”

Cried a rag-clad jester, hands weighed down by brass bells.

“The moment you've been waiting for!”

Oh, and how the crowd went wild with glee!   
Siegmeyer did too, of course; for although he did his best to be a restrained and disciplined father, most of the time, there she was!

Well, you couldn't really _tell_ it was her, of course, since the proud armour most knights of the land favoured was a bit, mmmn, distinct to Catarina, but he would have recognized her slight, cautious gait most anywhere!

“LIN! _OVER HERE!_ ”

He bellowed, but – well, it was quite impossible that she saw or heard him over the terrible din. Oh, what a terrible stroke of bad luck – perhaps he should have bought two lucky charms, mmn... He'd heard that those little rings blessed by the little folk were quite popular, nowadays...

Despite the excitement in the air, however, it was the most experienced knights who fought first; they tended to be most cautious, paradoxically. Their battles were elegant, but not what the crowd craved, especially those who saw such mock-battles as an entry into knighthood, or some similar career.

And he could see her fidgeting nervously, and occasionally trying to strike up conversation with some of her peers, and _oooh,_ it seemed they just weren't very responsive, and that was quite enough!   
  
Surely, he'd have a good word with them later –

“And now! Two newcomers to this _FIELD of CARNAGE!_ Young wildcard Sieglinde, of Catarina, versus the deadly ducal slaughter machine, Giuseppe, of Catarina!”

_Whysoever wasn't SHE also a, a slaughter machine! This jester was biased, what outrage was this –_

Both contestants raised their great swords to the sky, and the crowd _roared._ They were quite light, which was the trick of it. Where others somewhat clumsily swung the blades as if they were just chunks of metal, the mark of a true warrior was learning to swing them as if they were an extension of your own arm.

“Now, brave and beloved attendees! Let this combat... Begin!”

Immediately, the crowd returned to silence. Both warriors circled each other, and his knuckles went pure white. Oh, terrible, terrible – this fellow was surely good...

_But he had faith, knew she was better._

And so it was that almost instantly she pressed her advantage; for in combat, his dear little Lin was no stripling! She would strike, and feint, and strike again, and the pressure put Giuseppe the retreat, quickly. The crowd was cheering, but...

The fellows at his side weren't.

He only caught it just before it happened; one produced a rather large rock from under his voluminous hat, and threw it straight into the ring.

It didn't even strike her, didn't even come close; but she paused, and glanced towards them and he _knew_ she must have that look of surprise and confusion she got when distracted, and her opponent immediately recovered his ground and managed to make up for his embarrassing showing earlier, but –

Siegmeyer had no way of noticing that, for he'd quite stopped paying attention.

“THAT'S MY DAUGHTER, YOU CHEATING RAPSCALLIONS! DRAW YOUR BLADES, IF YOU HAVE ANY COURAGE!”

(And then he swore quite profusely, so much so that even the most outre of the group had to turn a rather fresh shade of red.)

It was in that moment, alas, that a bit of a melee broke out, not that he'd had anything to...

Well, it was possible he (and they) had held everything to do with it, ahahaha! The last thing he remembered was holding one of the rascals by his shoulder and striking the other's noggin with his fist, and then suddenly all'd gone quite silent, then loud, people screaming, a bit of a stampede...

The carnage faded eventually, however, as all such fracases do. When the dust settled, he was victorious, but at terrible cost; he'd quite broken the lucky charm he'd bought! One of the rascals was laughing uproariously, and swearing something like an oath of loyalty because – well, it was strange, you often made friends in places like this, too?   
  
He glanced to the dust, vegetable, and pebble strewn field of battle.   
The dust thickened, then settled, then fled.

From where her foot stood on the back of the fallen knight, Sieglinde beamed at the audience, her visor off. She was missing a tooth, and bleeding a bit from a cut on her forehead, and the dark blonde hair she'd inherited from her mother was a bit mussed, but – she'd won.

Roaring (and crying, a bit) with fatherly pride he leapt over the stands to run over and embrace her, and they did a bit of a dance in the field.

Then, the jester was tapping his shoulder with a long-suffering smile.

“Very good, but please step aside, sir.”   
  
“Oh, ah. Quite!”   
  
“Now, then... The victor is KNIGHTESS SIEGLINDE, OF CATARINA!”

Once more, the crowd roared – and as it did, the jester whispered to them both (but not unkindly):

“Also, you two are banned from these grounds. Forever.”   
  
So it was that two brave knights, supporting each other by the shoulder, left the parade grounds, laughing and trading tales of valour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they went back next year somehow and sieglinde crushed it


End file.
